Nights Like These
by InMySundayBest
Summary: We loved with a love that was more than love. – Edgar Allen Poe. KD from Deeks' perspective involving a club, a blue dress, a teensy bit of jealousy and some mild angst.


**Hi again, just another story that kind of appeared on my computer screen this evening :) Reviews are loved.**

**Disclaimer: I'm actually rather sad to be pointing out that I don't own NCIS:LA. I'm not really bothered that I don't own Twilight though which is only very briefly referred too. I also don't own Kesha and if I told people I did I think I might be arrested.**

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We loved with a love that was more than love. – Edgar Allen Poe.

I've only been there for half an hour when I see her but the moment I do, I just _know_ I have to get out of there.

The club is alive with its pulsating beat coursing excited energy through my body. I love this place, it's relatively new and handily located just around the corner from my apartment. Its two large circular bars at either end of the room are connected by a thrumming dance floor stretching out to hold all the bodies moving to the euphoric beat with swanky red leather booths and high marble tables guard the surrounding walls. It's a Saturday night and so incredibly easy to just get lost in the pulsating music and it upbeat atmosphere.

I'm doing just that, chatting to a couple of girls on their works night out when I see her. I abruptly exit the conversation and extract myself from their group, largely oblivious to their disappointed faces on having to hunt down another charming guy to flirt with.

I should leave now.

I don't think I can handle watching her dance, flirt and leave the bar with a stranger tonight- or any other night for that matter. I should leave and find another club, or better yet, I should just go home because the moment she stepped under those bar lights and into my line of sight in that silky blue mini dress, any prospects I had for the evening were effectively shot down.

As she flits across to the opposite side of the bar with a kind of dangerous grace that can only be described as Kensi, I can't unstick my eyes from her friggin gorgeous figure. I don't often see her in blue since Hetty finds black to be a more practical colour to dress her in for ops but _jeez,_ it's definitely a colour she wears well. Her hair's all natural and wavy and it's times like this when I wonder how the hell I managed to get partnered with her.

I _really_ need to leave. But she's oozing some kind of super strong glue that means you literally have to peel your eyes away from her and a very small part of me (about ninety-eight percent) wants to go over and say hello. I know I shouldn't though.

If we were Sam and Callen it would never be and issue. But we aren't. We're Deeks and Kensi. And when we're about thirty miles from work and there's so much alcohol close by and when the music's slamming my brain and the room's air is thick and humid, it gets so much harder to think like partners.

I'm momentarily saved from any inappropriate thoughts by a man in a dark shirt and jeans who approaches her in a way that's a little too saunter-y for my liking. I'm immediately on guard and as he leans against the bar, I stretch my neck for a better view but I can still only see the back of his head. Despite my lack of a clear visual though, it's clear that he's a prat.

He's a prat.

And he must be at least a half foot shorter than I am. Surely Kensi wouldn't go for a short guy. Who _saunters_.

But of course, she's flashing him that 'come-at-me' smile and I briefly remember those theories of the Baktun countdown because if Kensi is really interested in this guy then the world might as well be ending. Am I being dramatic? I feel like I'm being dramatic but he's wearing chinos for goodness sake.

Pratboy's leaning in now, he's resting a hand on her arm and they're talking and smiling. I don't think that whatever he's saying can be very interesting, he doesn't look like an interesting guy. I bet he has some really boring job. In a factory. Making doorknobs.

Kensi _so_ can't be into this guy.

He leans past her toward the bar and she's somewhat blocked in by his stupid prattish body but by the way she's subtly checking him out, she doesn't seem to mind.

Yeah, well, she subtly checks me out sometimes too. And at least I have an interesting job.

The bartender places two dark drinks on the bar and Pratboy slides his wallet out from his back pocket to pay him. Kensi is casually surveying the room and in momentary panic, I find myself ducking behind a couple swaying together and laughing at the edge of the dance floor who are either too drunk or just having too much fun to notice my presence. Which is a little worrying if you ask me because I could be a total creep. Kind of like that guy at the bar who is _ohmygod-_ playing with Kensi's fingers.

"Oh man,_ really?"_ I find myself saying and the guy I'm crouched behind suddenly notices me.

"Hey, what the hell?" he says, hooking am arm around his girlfriends waist as they both turn to look at me in minor disgust. I realise I should probably move from my somewhat uncomfortable position and fumble for an excuse as I awkwardly straighten up.

"I was just- I lost an earring." Tonight is _so_ not going the way I planned. "I mean, my friend lost an earring. My friend who's a girl and wears earrings." The couples expressions of annoyance don't change and I think that if they ever spawn babies, their kids will that have that expression too and then they'll just be a family of exceedingly cheesed off faces.

I speed walk away before I'm attacked for being a creeper toward a cluster of high tables and casually rest my drink on one while greeting the ladies there with my most charming smile before turning my attention back to my partner who is _still_ at the bar with that guy.

This is becoming borderline ridiculous as I begin to think of all the possible reasons why this guy is clearly bad news. For all we know he could be some crazy, axe-wielding lunatic murderer with a penchant for badass brunette feds and Kensi obviously hasn't realised the likelihood of this yet.

She's laughing at something he said and lightly touching her hand to his arm. I'm halfway across the room before I realise what I'm doing but I just can't stop myself, rational Deeks is no longer here. I'm just crazy Deeks with the hots for my partner and an extreme dislike for psycho killers in chinos.

I coolly approach them in a way that totally isn't a saunter and swipe Pratboys drink from his hand, suppressing a grin at the shock and disbelief visible across Kensis face.

Seriously, this is always how I imagined she'd look if we discovered that Justin Bieber is actually a prophet sent down from God.

"Thanks man," I say, not bothering looking at Pratboy but I'm sure his expression is one of complete awe at the sheer awesomeness of the guy who just stole his glass. "Hey Kens, how's it going?"

I am so smooth.

She still hasn't closed her mouth when I flash her the most charming grin in my wallet and sip my newly acquired drink. I swear that I really can't help choking when it unexpectedly begins to corrode my throat and churn my stomach with its stupid alcoholic strength. I cough half of it back up and I'm almost certain some even spurts out my nose which is super attractive I'm sure. I'm such a ladykiller.

"Sorry man, not many can handle absinth."

I'm really hoping that my eyes aren't streaming when I turn to give him my best glare, the one that incidentally, I picked up from Kensi.

Wait a minute, I swear this guy looked shorted from the other side of the bar. _He's a freaking giant._

"Deeks, what the hell?" hisses the real reason I'm over here. I don't even feel guilty for noticing how hot she looks when she's mad because I'm still trying not to wheeze and wondering how I'm going to get rid of Mr. Giant-Pratboy.

"Sorry I'm late honey, I know how restless you get when I'm not around," I lie, slipping a casual arm around her waist and glancing around in desperation for something to get rid of the remnants of the monstrosity of a drink that's left an aftertaste of what's probably very similar to dead kittens in my mouth.

God, I hate this guy.

"You have a boyfriend?" asks Giant-Pratboy in a way that makes me almost pity his chino-clad psychopathic self. But then I really can't help but notice that on closer inspection he looks kind of like a more muscled version of the guy from that Vampire movie, the one that every single girl on the planet seems to be freaking in love with, and all pity vanishes. I seriously hate my life sometimes. "I thought you said you were here alone?"

"Actually, I a-"

"She gets lonely when I'm not around," I sigh dramatically, cutting her off. The toes of her heels press into my own and I can't help but wince in response but nevertheless, I continue before she can salvage any possibility of a hook-up with this guy. "And she's nervous about being in clubs on her own, especially when they're this busy."

She's going to _kill_ me. I can't help but feel like I'm almost shooting myself in the foot by making her sound like the needy girl from that vampire film, the one that gets with the Pratboy lookalike. He looks a little confused but nods and says something else that I'm not really paying attention to due to the increasing pain in my foot where Kensis shoe is pressed, before walking in a less saunter-y way across to the other side of the bar.

Kensi whirls on me as soon as he's gone with total fury in her eyes. I swear, if it _does_ turn out that Justin Bieber is God, his next song better have the line; "I'm sorry Deeks for letting you ruin your life last Saturday night."

"You are such an idiot Deeks!"

"What do you mean _I'm_ the idiot? Did you see him?" I hear my voice raise a few octaves and mentally deduct points from my man card.

"Yes actually, and he was very nice."

"Oh really?" I truly can't help the disbelief that seeps into my tone.

"What _is_ this? Are you jealous?"

"Excuse me? What? No!" Again with the high voice. Am I overdoing it? It feels like I'm overdoing it. "I was just concerned. He could've been some raving murdering ex-convict. And you're letting him buy you drinks!"

"Are you serious? Deeks we're highly trained federal agents!"

"Maybe we should take you to the hospital, you should probably get checked for GBH or something."

"I'm gonna send _you_ to hospital Deeks," she grumbles and I almost don't hear her over the dance beat thumping across the bar.

"Yeah that's probably a better idea actually because the moron most likely drugged his own drink by accident and now I'm probably gonna end up passing out on you any second."

""Well I'll just leave your stupid ass for the bouncers to deal with while I burn down your house and slash the tyres on your Malibu." Okay, so maybe I shouldn't rile her up any more.

"Woah there, why don't we just calm down for a second, alright?" I raise my hands in that soothing, wafting motion that people do when they're trying to diffuse tension. It's funny that it never seems to work because right now she looks like she wants to physically attack me.

"You know what Deeks," she's grabbing her purse off the bar and adjusting her satin dress. "Congratulations. You are officially the most annoying, ridiculous person I have ever met. Have a good night."

Now that wasn't very nice.

She starts to push past me but I can't just let her leave when she's so mad. There's still the possibility that she'll just go to another club and leave with another loser and I really don't want her to do that. Y'know, because I'm such a good partner and everything, I have to look out for her.

I've seen this moment in movies when the guy smoothly reaches out to grab the girls arm and she pauses, looking all pouty and annoyed and then he just comes out with this brilliant one liner and they make out passionately. Or something like that.

Somehow though, I can't see Kensi and I getting quite into that here, or anywhere for that matter but still, I decide to go for it anyway, it can't hurt to try right?

I gently grab her arm. Check.

She looks all pouty and annoyed. Check.

She's trying to shake my hand off. Wait, this isn't supposed to happen! I have to hurry along my line but I don't have one yet.

"Don't you sometimes wish they would play East 17 in places like this?"

I hate my life.

There's this awkward silence between us. She's looking at me with this kind of adorable look that's somewhere between rage and confusion. We aren't making out passionately yet but I think the fact that she hasn't yet targeted my junk with her killer stilettos almost makes up for it.

There's more silence as we just stare at each other and I'm pretty sure it's her line next.

"Marty! It's so good to see you again!" a girl I met a few nights ago appears at my side in the crowd, her painted nails clutching at my upper arm.

In all honesty, I can't believe this. We're in L.A. It's frankly remarkable to be seeing this many people that I already know in one club on the same night.

I turn to properly face her and can't help but think that she isn't as pretty as I remember and although she does have very pretty eyes and rather a lot of freckles, she has bright ginger hair and I almost never go for red-heads. A silver S hangs from a chain around her neck, prompting my memory.

"Hey Sarah," I grin. I'm not gonna lie; although I wasn't planning on ever seeing her again, she does have pretty good timing.

She leans around me and glances up at Kensi with a small smile. She _is _very cute.

"Who's your friend?" she asks and her fingers dig into my arm a little hard. I steal a glance at Kensi and the disapproval in her eyes is glaringly obvious.

Her glower is almost burning my skin as I subtly shift slightly to further protect my manhood from her kicking space. "I'm Kensi," she grits out not taking her eyes off mine. I'm suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

"Oh right," Sarah seems to recoil slightly and turns her attention back to me nodding toward the cluster of bodies moving in rhythm to the music in the centre of the Room. "You want to dance?"

"Well actually-" I begin but Kensi cuts me off.

"_Actually_, he already just asked _me_." Wait, _what? _

She grabs my hand and drags me away to the centre of the dance floor and I only just manage a brief wave behind me to Sarah before she roughly spins me around to face her.

"What was _that_?" she hisses. I'm sensing that the common theme of this evening is anger.

We're being jostled by the crowds of people who are actually dancing so I step closer and slide my arms around her waist, suddenly feeling a little like James Bond.

"Hey!" she yelps but I can't help but notice that she doesn't pull away.

"Kens, you wanted to dance, so dance." I say in my firm Bond voice.

Slowly, she wraps her arms around my neck and moves closer as we sway to Kesha in a very un-Kesha like way. I know she's still angry at me by the stiffness of her movements but as the minutes pass and one song blends into another she begins to regain her earlier grace and I take a few calming breaths in relief.

She hasn't looked me in the eyes since I took her by the waist but I get the feeling that since there's guilt belatedly pooling in my stomach, I don't have the right to push her on this one.

Glancing down at her, my eyes ghost over her smoothed tanned skin that's shiny from the intense heat in the room and her dark, kohl lined lashes fanning across her upper cheekbones. Her hair is glossy and loose and I can feel the very tips of it brushing against my right thumb on her back. She really is very beautiful and it's at times like this when I truly wish that she wasn't my partner. That she was the kind of person who I'm allowed to have these unprofessional thoughts about. That I'm allowed to have an unprofessional relationship with.

But then if I wasn't her partner, she wouldn't have someone watching her back and even if Hetty found another replacement, he would never be good enough to keep her safe. There's no one else I can trust with someone who has become so precious to me so I have to be the one watching her back, even with all my unprofessional thoughts and good intentions. It has to be me.

It's the worst kind of love I guess, the kind that can't be acknowledged and shouldn't be ignored. It's the kind that causes her voice to act as a catalyst with my heart rate, her perfume to cloud my mind and her gun to hold me firmly at arm's length.

She finally raises her gaze up to meet mine and her mismatched eyes say it all; she isn't mad, just defeated. She sucks in a breath and we're looking at each other in a way that partners never should before her forehead drops against my shoulder where she releases her breath and what could be a quiet groan that I can't quite catch over the buzz of the club.

"What are we doing Deeks?" She says and I very almost don't hear her and notice that we've drifted back to the edge of the dance floor where we're no longer moving.

"I don't know."

"No... I think- I think I should go home."

"Yeah, alright."

After a few more seconds she pulls out of my arms and steps back to the acceptable distance of about a foot and once again we're stable. Stable and separate.

She straightens out her dress and offers me a weak smile and I know I'm forgiven.

"See you Monday Partner." She says before turning toward the exit and merging into the crowd.

I decide to wait a few minutes and head home too. Absolutely nothing good can come from following her but that still doesn't stop me thinking about it.

That's the problem with Kensi and I. We're right on the border of professional and unprofessional and it's on nights like these when we slip. Nights like these when it just comes to be too much and the air becomes thick, my head begins to cloud and the only thing that seems to remain is Kensi. But in my fuzzy overheated brain, she can be whatever I want her too and she looked very unlike my partner in her silky dark blue dress tonight.

Nights like these are dangerous and the really scary part is that they're becoming more and more frequent.


End file.
